


Dangerous Underneath

by fadinglove



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassin Steve Rogers, Cliche, Developing Relationship, M/M, Short Chapters, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadinglove/pseuds/fadinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Steve Rogers is locked and loaded, but Tony Stark may just be bulletproof.<br/>((DISCONTINUED AT THE MOMENT))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first long-term fic I'm trying to write. The plot is clichéd and kind of predictable, but I just wanted to try it out on Stony anyway. All necessary background info will be revealed as the story progresses.  
> Just as a heads-up, I might change the rating or add warnings later on because this is still really fluid and not a perfectly planned out, set-in-stone kind of fic.

Amidst the dim lighting and musty walls, Agent Rogers sits silently in a cheap, foldable chair. Across from him, over a cluttered mahogany desk of weaponized trinkets and neglected paperwork, a black man lounges easily in his soft throne. The single bulb above them flickers uselessly.

Agent's back is ramrod straight, hands in his lap, expression giving away nothing except maybe a little bit of puzzlement, if you looked closely enough.

An eyepatch slung over the black man's right eye reminds him of a solar eclipse, because it's a shame the once glowing, burning iris must be covered up. Sun behind moon. "Rogers, you're probably wondering why I called you here today. It's short notice, I know, but you're one of my best men on the field."

Steve sincerely doubts that. Sure, he may be a trained fighter, but he's also emotionally wrecked, awful at hiding feelings, red-faced when lying, and in a nutshell, everything a secret agent is not supposed to be. But since they've kept him around for so damn long, he never questions it. "Thank you, Director Fury."

Fury waves a hand around dismissively. "Call me Nick. Anyway, we got a case so red-taped with classified government regulation shit that I have to resort to discussing it with you in this place. It's moldy and dark, but it'll do."

The Agent resists taking a long look around. He recollects that the walls are peeling, stained with mysterious substances, with ugly graffiti sprawling over each side. It probably spells out censored words, and everything about this place screams _secret hide-out_ , but he doesn't question Fury's ways.

No point.

"What do I have to do?" Steve's voice is never rusty from disuse, which he clearly has to thank his super-soldier abilities for. He puts it like a death sentence, which it probably already is, but Fury raises an eyebrow anyway and leans forward on the desk, hands clasping together. Somewhere in the distance, a leaking faucet spills water by the second.

"What do you have to do?" _Drip. Drop._ "Well, what you've always had to do."

Director reaches under his drawers and pulls out two thick manila folders, bursting inside with legal paperwork, classified files, and HD definition photos of his soon-to-be victim. "Read everything, get started sharp tomorrow, have- oh, whatever, you know the drill. Just read it. This man is... very powerful."

"A villain?"

"Not exactly. Could make a great one, though. He's a weapons manufacturer. Well-known, in fact, you've probably heard of him."

Steve doesn't think so. Ever since he's come back from the ice, celebrities and industrial company giants have been replaced and altered so many times he can't keep track of them all. He might know a few famous figures, but it's limited, and it's probably either because he hates them or loves them.

But a weapons manufacturer? The very title spikes a childish tantrum through Steve. The only thing he hates more than Hitler are government suck-up scum that use their free time to waste money and work time to participate in morally questionable and probably illegal things that benefit the world as much as pollution.

Then he's got an idea of who it could be. Questioningly, Steve looks down at the folders, taking hold of both of them.

Only the cream parchment and smooth, unbleached paper, pleading to be opened, stare back at him.


	2. Prologue Pt. 2

**Four Seasons Hotel des Bergues**

**Geneva, Switzerland**

**11:02 P.M.**

 

All in all, Steve has to admit he's still quite surprised. Upon flipping open the heavy binders and skimming past all of the condensed Terms & Conditions text, a single sheet of paper meets his eyes. One small picture of a familiar, handsome face in the top left corner, followed by lengthy chunks of text that don't really seem to be enough of a description.

 **Name:** Anthony Edward Stark

 **Occupation:** Business Magnate/Industrialist

 **Fields:** Engineering, Physics, Flight Dynamics, Rocketry, Weapons/Armor Design, Bionics, Life Science, Medical, Metallurgy, Computing

Page after page explains Stark's countless inventions, blueprints and designs of machinery that shouldn't even be possible to build in this decade. 

Steve's not a tech expert (far from it, in fact), but even he can tell this is past revolutionary. Uncrossing his legs, Steve leans forward in his chair for a better view, brow furrowed with something of awe. He always knew the man was a genius, but these countless technological and scientific leaps?

And in papers (describing only trinkets) that he obviously didn't even give too much thought to, either, considering how others were able to get their hands on them. This was a real, glaring difference from the "notorious playboy Tony Stark" mentioned in tabloids at least twice a day. Steve's more than baffled now- if this claims Stark to be a charming, indestructible prodigy, how is a flimsy soldier like himself, kept around only for Fury's pity party, supposed to take him down?

A mystery, he thinks sordidly. Already, Steve begins formulating plans to get close to Stark, undercover, but nothing works that wouldn't be obvious to someone of such intellect. He has absolutely no idea of the extent of Stark's brainpower and sheer will. Already from digging out old files in his free time, Steve has learned that many legendary agents working under Fury have tried (and failed) to incapacitate Stark. James Barnes, Natasha Romanoff... Whispers of names, voices filled with wonder and admiration, speaking of these people that were living legacies.

If they couldn't measure up to the job, how can he?

Steve's caught word about the infamous duo, Bucky and Nat. One lean mean fighting machine with long hair, a deadpoint gaze, and razor arm that was built to replace his real one, equipped with virtual indestructability and miniscule weaponry. One intimidating Russian redhead with a fiery streak and the body to prove it.

Barely withholding a sigh of frustration, Steve drops the files on his chair as he stands, stretching, calculating, thinking.

He'll just have to go through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a slow start so far, but please bear with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for bookmarking or leaving kudos, if you choose to do so!


End file.
